


Reconciliation

by IamShadow21



Series: Teapot 'verse [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Depression, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medication, Not Epilogue Compliant, Panic Attacks, Post - Deathly Hallows, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, Short, Teapot 'verse, Teapot 'verse Future Fic, Teapot 'verse Mini Arc, Touch Aversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-09
Updated: 2008-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamShadow21/pseuds/IamShadow21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ron finally talk about the issues dividing them.<br/><i>Set two years after Tea/Apples.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconciliation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Leaves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111580) by [IamShadow21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamShadow21/pseuds/IamShadow21). 



> If you haven't already, you should read Suspicion and Leaves first or this will make NO SENSE.
> 
> And just so you know, I cried like a baby the WHOLE TIME I was writing this, so you have to forgive me now.

I cling tenaciously to my dream. In it, Ron is laughing; his face bright and carefree, his eyes filled with promises. He’s slipping away from me, though. Something is dragging me up through the layers of sleep, even as I fight against it. I let out a whimper of protest as I begin to feel the edges of the seat cushions beneath my hip, the awkward angle of my neck because my head has slipped off the pillow, and the large hand shaking my shoulder softly. 

“Harry?”

When I open my eyes, I just stare at him crouching in front of me with disbelief. “You…” I croak.

“I came back,” Ron says, unnecessarily. He looks tired and worn; old, even. Deep purple shadows tint the hollows under his eyes.

I reach out to touch his face, but he catches my hand between his own, gently holding it away from him.

“I have to say something first,” he says, and I can hear the delicate thread of control in his voice, tuned to near-breaking. “I can’t live without you. You’re under my skin, and staying away the last few days nearly killed me. But if...if you promise you won’t do it again...I forgive you.”

The desperate entreaty _say yes please say yes_ in his eyes undoes me completely, and a harsh sob breaks from my chest. If I was properly awake then maybe, _maybe_ , I wouldn’t be openly weeping with no self restraint and no dignity. There’s tears and mucus and saliva all mingling as I bury my face in my pillow and the agony of being turns me inside out, all the rawness now on the exterior in plain sight.

“Nobody else,” I force out between hiccups. “Never was...only you...”

On his face I see a flicker of doubt in his own convictions. “But...why...?”

“Because I’m _crazy!_ ” I snap, pulling my hand from his and scrubbing violently at my face, tugging at my own hair. “’ve been...so stressed. The promotion...that trial...last month...this _fucking_ case...just doing my head in...didn’t...want to flinch...when you touched me...”

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” Ron asks, and he’s looking at me with love and pain and _understanding_ and I know he believes me and he’s mine.

“ _Because I should be able to control it!_ ” I can hear the hysterical edge to my outburst, feel my slight detachment from the situation as I ramble on. “I’m weak! Snape always said so, _and he was right!_ I just can’t...why can’t I...why can’t...”

He’s making soothing noises now and lightly stroking my forearm _just so_ and he _knows_ and it hurts my chest every time I try to take a breath.

“I’ll be back in a moment, okay?” he murmurs. “You hear me, Harry? Look at me. I’m coming back, alright?”

And I look in those deep blue eyes and I believe him, and I nod because I believe him and he stands up and leaves and my chest _really hurts_ and my head is spinning...

“Come on, up you get,” Ron’s saying now as he helps me to sit upright. “Here drink this.”

He presses a glass to my lips and the Calming Draught tastes of sweet Lemon Balm and subtly of Chamomile and the Mint barely masks the unpleasant pervasive flavour of Valerian.

“Don’t know how good it is,” Ron says, setting the glass down. “It’s been a long while since we’ve needed it.”

“’s good. ‘s working,” I slur, as the bands around my ribcage slowly loosen and release and the familiar lassitude steals over me like a cool blanket. 

Ron has dropped my pillow on the floor and sat beside me, and his gentle guiding hand on my shoulder is all the encouragement I need to lie down with my head in his lap, turning over so that I can nuzzle into his warm stomach. His hand lightly strokes my hair, massaging my temples and the nape of my neck. He makes no attempt to hug me or pull me in closer, and I sigh as the Potion does its blessed work, even relieving the headache brought on by crying and the aches from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position beforehand.

“You should have told me,” he whispers. It’s not a rebuke, and there’s no resentment in the statement. “I could have helped.”

“Shouldn’t need help,” I mumble thickly. “Been years. Should be over this already.”

“Maybe I _want_ to help. Maybe I need to feel like I’m doing _something_ , even if it’s just making you inferior tea and dosing you up to the eyeballs on vintage medicines.”

“’s good stuff,” I agree. “My lips are numb, and you’re all fuzzy ‘round the edges.”

I reach up to touch his cheek, and nearly poke him in the eye instead. He smiles and captures my hand in his, pressing a kiss to my palm, and my eyelids flutter closed.

“I love you,” I say, my face crumpling as fresh tears well in my eyes. “’m so sorry. I fucked up, ‘nd you left.”

“Shhh...” he says, his fingertips caressing my scalp in steady circles. “I love you and I’m sorry too. We both fucked up. It’s not your fault.”

“M’neck hurts,” I whimper, and he rubs the sore muscles firmly.

“You stupid bugger,” he says, and his voice is tight with restrained emotion. “What were you sleeping down here for anyway?”

“Bed wuz too big w’thout you,” I try to say, though my tongue feels awkward and clumsy in my mouth. “Lonely. Could pr’tend y’were upstairs ‘f I wuz here...”

He curls over and presses a kiss on my hair.

“I’m here now,” I hear distantly as sleep carries me away. “And I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
